


every day and night i can't let go

by thespiansparkle



Category: NXT, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Injury, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespiansparkle/pseuds/thespiansparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, it always comes back to Sami and Adrian. No matter how much things seem like they're trying to keep that from happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every day and night i can't let go

**Author's Note:**

> Written to a little Damien Rice--"you know when you've found it, there's something I've learned, cause you feel it when they take it away"--but also a lot of Bleachers, especially Rollercoaster, because I can't bring myself to angst too long. Bits drawn from their dual interview on Talk is Jericho & PAC on Art of Wrestling. 
> 
> I promised Carrie roughly forever ago that I'd write a fic--this is me coming through in the clutch, with my favorite flippy nerd OTP.

Adrian was backstage when it happened.

Not watching it awkwardly sideways on the television screens like they always show on TV, just back there waiting, going over the match with Dolph a bit, snarking at Wade over Premier League relegations and laughing in spite of himself. 

He’d given Sami a huge bear hug before Sami had headed to gorilla, knowing that Sami would need some space before he walked out there. Wanting rather badly to talk to Sami, to apologize, to ask how he was, (to kiss him senseless up against the wall long and slow and deep which was most assuredly out), to find some way to close this distance that had started between them the Raw after WrestleMania. But still, knowing Sami ( _my Sami_ , some little voice in the back of his brain insisted, no matter what had changed)—no matter how much Sami’s eyes had sparkled at the feeling of Adrian wrapped up in his arms, even though Sami had muttered “yeah” to Adrian’s mumbled “dinner after?— he would need the space to get himself ready to go out there in that hometown sea of “olés.” Adrian knew him enough to give it to him.

They had never pretended this would be exclusive—neither of them had wanted it that way, no pangs of jealousy, no late-night teary fights, so instead half their texts were spent teasing one another about their crushes, Sami always trying to text a terrible impersonation of Wade’s accent and Adrian always threatening to tell Finn this or that. But at the end of it all, it was Adrian and Sami coming back to each other, and Adrian knew, he could just feel, that they were going to do it again, this whole “main roster” thing be damned.

Adrian had been dancing in place a bit to Sami’s music when it hit, hearing snatches of crowd noise and cheers, wandering off a few steps to stretch so he’d be warmed up when they were called to position. Admittedly, the stretching was really more about thinking a bit longingly of dinner with Sami, too much coffee and probably too much giggling and touching under the table and “well we might as well just go back to your room, right?,” finally things would start to click to this new normal, Sami about to be the NXT champion and everything right in the world.

Suddenly there were a few muffled gasps and, though he didn’t know quite why, it was all Adrian could do to stay calm, stomach sinking.

“Oh, shit,” Dolph had muttered, suddenly, “that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What?” Adrian had demanded, immediately, trying to keep his voice level but actually this close to running out to get the imagined save, never mind the rest.

“His damn shoulder,” Wade growled, not unsympathetically. “Looks like it damn near popped out.”

If Adrian’s stomach had been sinking before now it was more like capsizing.

“Is, um…did it—“ Adrian had stammered, not sure what he was even asking, what he wanted to know, only knowing the dozen things he couldn’t say or do.

“He’ll be all right,” Sheamus had said, clapping Adrian on the shoulder, “can’t worry about that right now.”

Adrian had lingered too long trying to catch a glimpse of Sami as he was helped to the trainer’s room, managing only to catch Sami’s eye for half a second and not say a single damn word, standing helpless as Sami winced and gestured at his shoulder and Adrian’s music starting loud and clear and not a single thing Adrian could do, running out to throw off his cape and dive into the ring.

Adrian had never been so glad to get hit with a Bullhammer in his life.

“Where’s Sami?” Adrian had demanded the moment they cleared the curtain, “where is he, did they take him to hospital?”

One of the crew members gestured toward the trainer’s room vaguely, and Adrian tried not to run into the room, knocking softly and hearing a slightly pained “Yeah?”

“Sami, it’s—it’s Adrian, can I—“

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon.”

Adrian’s heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when he walked in to see Sami bandaged up, ice resting on his bandaged shoulder, Sami’s eyes red with what Adrian knew full well were held-back tears.

“Did you shower yet?” Sami had asked, sniffle-laughing a little.

“What?” Adrian had asked, caught off guard.

“You know if you don’t shower right away your hair’s a rat’s nest,” Sami had said, gesturing with his good arm at Adrian’s head, “and I’m sure you didn’t bring that conditioner with you.”

“I don’t travel with it,” Adrian had said defensively, “last thing I need is a bottle like that to spill all over my damn trunks, people would talk.”

“Just saying,” Sami had replied, wincing, “you’d really be better off grabbing a shower, where exactly am I going, huh?”

“Sami—“ Adrian had said, not really even sure how the sentence was going to finish, when two trainers hurried into the room and brushed past Adrian, barely acknowledging him.

“You’re gonna need an MRI,” one of them said, and Sami’s head dropped.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll see myself out,” Adrian had said, wanting nothing more than to run to Sami’s side and rain kisses on his head, rub his good shoulder, let Sami collapse against Adrian’s chest and let it all out, managing only a slightly strangled, “Sami, you’ll—“

“I don’t think I’m up for grabbing dinner,” Sami said to the floor, and Adrian laughed a little tearily himself.

“Can we take a rain check?” Adrian had asked, hoping Sami would hear it all in that sentence, hear every unspoken promise and offer.

“Yeah,” Sami had said, voice flat, “next time you’re actually in Orlando.”

“Right then,” Adrian had answered, working with all his might not to let his voice shake, jaw twitching, “keep me, ehm, keep me posted, Sami.”

The pained grunt from one of the trainers stretching Sami’s arm out was Adrian’s only reply as he’d walked out into the hallway toward the showers, reaching up to touch the knots that had formed in his drying hair.

* * * * 

They’d been in touch on and off since then. Nothing like the days when Adrian had been down in Florida full-time, when they’d drained phone batteries texting goofy nonsense, Skyping and FaceTiming when their tours separated, going on the road with Finn and Hideo eating pancakes far too late at night and ending their fair share of nights at one another’s apartments. Using more emoticons than anyone could deem strictly necessary, pictures and videos and links and the occasional “you alone right now?” if they were on the road, always knowing the kind of phone call that would follow, both of them breathless and spent and murmuring endearments and promises for the next time they were in the same place, promises that always went more than fulfilled.

This wasn’t really much like that at all. This felt—polite. Courteous. Better than nothing, perhaps, certainly more contact than they’d had in weeks. But, if Adrian was honest, far too cold for someone as sunshine-bright as Sami Zayn, smile that could light up the room and that lit up Adrian’s whole heart. And it stung, stung deep and low, in a way that no King of the Ring final could erase, cheers from the crowd nowhere near loud enough to replace the way it felt when Adrian’s phone used to ring with Sami on the other line just giggling at some stupid joke he’d remembered. Sure, once in a while Adrian would reference “still have that rain check for dinner?” and Sami would text back “hey, anytime,” but that was it, the closest it came to feeling like before.

Things were starting to build back a bit—a little bit more teasing, a little bit more joking, Sami had even sent Adrian a little video before Adrian’s match at Payback, ending it with a smile and a blown kiss, and Adrian had sent another one back the next night after his loss, showing Sami that he’d washed his hair before sending it. (And yeah, maybe Adrian had “accidentally” started the video while his phone was low in his hand, low enough for Sami to see that Adrian was only wearing a towel, Sami had surprised himself with how loud he gasped when he played it, and then replayed it, over and over.) 

But it wasn’t until that match only a couple of days later with Kevin, that painful replay leaving Sami broken and looking forgotten and forlorn in the corner, that Adrian knew it couldn’t go on like this. Not anymore. This slow build was too slow and Adrian needed to make things right.

It took a little time and a fair bit of planning, a bit of pleading, a bit of “don’t you think the knee injury is more believable if I miss a couple of house shows?,” but one way or another, Adrian found himself sitting on a flight, fidgety and jittery, hoping like hell Sami would actually let him in the door.

Adrian pressed send on the text the minute he landed.

“you alone right now?”

Adrian would’ve been lying if he’d said it didn’t make his heart flutter when Sami texted back almost instantly. 

“yeah…”

And then, moments later:

“who’s asking, huh? :D”

Adrian laughed as he hopped into the rental car to start his errands, texting back,

“wouldn’t you like to know, sami zayn?”

As Adrian was pulling food off the shelves at the tiny grocery store, his phone buzzed in his pocket, Sami’s grinning face accompanying the message back.

“I think I can probably guess?”

A quick “you always were the clever one” back before driving over to the bakery, the flurry of texts continuing as Adrian scurries around, culminating in Sami asking,

“what time’s the show tonight?”

Adrian only felt the slightest pang of guilt when he texted back, “7:30, got some time to kill.”

The “any way I can help you kill it :D” that came back in near-instantaneous reply as Adrian pulled into Sami’s driveway actually made Adrian shiver and giggle and tear up all at once, that strange mix of emotions that only Sami could inspire.

Adrian dialed Sami’s number as he filled his arms with bags, pressing the phone between shoulder and cheek, and Sami’s voice was low and—dare Adrian say—hopeful when he answered.

“You think of a way for me to help you pass the time?” Sami said, giggling a bit.

“Yeah, ya dolt. Open the door.”

“What?”

Adrian banged his knee against the front door as he repeated, “I said, open the door, my damn hands are full.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line and then the triple beep indicating that the call had been lost, and in that moment, Adrian was sure, absolutely positive, that this was actually the worst idea he’d ever had and he had done some questionable flips at PWG shows in his day but this was taking the cake and is it too late to make it to that house show after all when the door flung open.

Sami stood, looking a bit pale, definitely both a bit softer and leaner than last time Adrian had seen him, his upper left arm heavily wrapped and braced, but the look on Sami’s face felt like home after a long rainy drive and it was all Adrian could do not to weep.

“I can’t really take anything off your hands,” Sami says, finally, and Adrian bursts out laughing, that shaky relieved kind of laughter that’s half-tears, swallowed up.

“Then get out of the way, this shit is heavy,” Adrian says, and Sami stepped back ever so slightly, enough that Adrian could get by but not so much that they didn’t brush against each other, that tiny contact feeling electric with the anticipation Adrian remembered from all those reunions after days apart.

Sami shuffled along behind Adrian into the kitchen, Adrian grabbing down plates and bowls and opening cabinets, barely even having to look, instinct guiding him as he unpacked containers and boxes of food.

“What’s all this?” Sami asks, a little bit of a smirk in his voice, and Adrian rolled his eyes as he straightened back up from grabbing out one of the larger bowls from the cabinet.

“I just stopped at the store on my way here,” Adrian says, “don’t get cocky.”

“No,” Sami says, and Adrian could see the smile starting to spread across Sami’s face, his eyes sparkling and cheeks flushing pink, “no, you didn’t just stop at the store, because this”—Sami grabs up the big container of baba ghanoush—“is from that little store all the way across town, the one that I’m pretty sure last time you were here you said you’d be better off actually going to Syria for the time it takes to get there.”

Adrian starts to reply, but is quickly cut off.

“And _these_ ,” Sami continues, picking up the little plastic bag of powdered sugar-coated cookies, “are from that bakery you know I like, because they actually do the filling right, they don’t look like this from anywhere else around here, and _that_ is on the _other_ side of town from the market.”

Adrian was starting to go scarlet in the way Sami found absolutely irresistible, that streaky red blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck, probably even his chest by now, muttering, “full of yourself, Sami Zayn, absolutely running over with it,” as Sami continues picking up bags and plastic tubs, Sami saying incredulously “did you actually plan your flight to come here because you know they only sell the red pepper hummus on Wednesdays?” as he turns one of the tubs around in his good hand, and finally Adrian bridges the divide between them, grabbing the hummus out of Sami’s hand and tugging Sami down carefully by his collar, kissing him deep and needy, and Sami moaned into Adrian’s mouth.

“What if I did, then?” Adrian breathes when they break apart.

“Why?” Sami answers, bent at the waist so he could lean his forehead against Adrian’s, eyes shining with a mix of hope and confusion.

“Every day,” Adrian whispers, closing his eyes, “miss you every damn day, Sami, no one like you, never was.”

Sami tangles the fingers of his right hand in Adrian’s hair, pulling Adrian closer to him, pressing their foreheads harder together, barely able to form words, lips grazing any part of Adrian’s face he can reach.

“Thought you’d forget,” Sami says, voice breaking, “thought you’d want, I don’t know, space, wanted to give you space, not stuck like me, you’re the one who got out and I wanted to let you—“

“Fuck that,” Adrian says, suddenly loud and yanking back, “never wanted that, never, too stubborn to say it, too damn stubborn, Sami, I always have been—“

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sami says, and that little moment of levity, that tiny break in such an intense moment, proves the final straw, and suddenly Adrian is laughing so hard he’s shaking and kissing Sami through the laughter and Sami is kissing right back, sloppy needy giggly kisses, Adrian can’t let himself think about how long it’s been since he’s gotten those from Sami, Sami running his good hand down Adrian’s cheek and tracing under his jaw and Adrian starting back when Sami’s fingers brush his neck.

“Oh, _man_ ,” Sami says, his voice far too gleeful, “you’re gonna be so fucking sensitive, aren’t you? How long’s it been?”

“Shut up,” Adrian growls with absolutely zero bite behind it, stepping back out of Sami’s reach, but the smile on his face is nearly painful it’s so wide. “I got you all this damn food and you’re gonna eat it and then maybe if you play nice…”

Sami steps closer and rests his fingers on Adrian’s waist, the contact warm and fizzing through Adrian’s blood, Adrian jolting a little helplessly.

“That’s the Adrian I remember,” Sami says, his voice taking on that slightly husky quality Adrian knows so well, that Adrian heard soft and warm through a cell phone pressed tight against his ear, Adrian’s free hand tight on his cock as Sami murmured instructions and sweetness miles and miles away.

“It’d have been, hell, weeks sometimes,” Sami continues, moving in closer, getting his mouth closer to Adrian’s ear, “all that build up, and we’d finally make it to the bed, or, fuck, the floor, the couch, and you’d be so sensitive I could barely touch you—“ Sami twitches his fingers against Adrian’s waist, making Adrian let out the breathiest “fuck!” and jump, though as always, Adrian felt himself jump into Sami’s touch rather than away from it.

“Worth it, though,” Sami says, “always worth it,” and he dips his head down to give Adrian another short hard kiss, Adrian’s turn to moan into Sami’s mouth this time.

“You’d think I was a schoolboy with a crush,” Adrian says, only half-playful, “if I told you I could probably tell you exactly how many days, hours, minutes…”

“Wade not giving you what you need? Come on, you’ve had a crush on him before you even signed here, you mean to tell me you haven’t moved in on that—“ Sami says, smirking at Adrian’s renewed blush, and Adrian squeaks and jumps back, trying to pout but the smile on his face too big to allow such a thing.

“Maybe I have,” Adrian says, trying to sound airy, wriggling around Sami to stand by the counter, “and frankly, maybe I should just go give him a call if you’re going to…to…insult my, I dunno, my integrity?”

“I don’t think that’s the word you want,” Sami says, moving back in closer, getting Adrian pinned between him and the counter, Sami’s hips pressing into Adrian’s.

“Is too!” Adrian insists, “awfully fresh, aren’t you, telling me what words I do and don’t want to use, cheeky thing,“ grinding up against Sami suddenly and making Sami let out a gasp, Adrian’s turn to smirk.

“I seem to remember,” Adrian says, mock-thoughtful, “you were pretty sensitive yourself, after a while. Oh sure, you could play tough, but I’d just do this”—and with that, Adrian stretched up so he could plant a soft kiss right behind Sami’s ear, and Sami shuddered with pleasure—“and you’d be a mess.”

They stand like that for a minute, both far more breathless than they wanted to admit for barely any touching, still fully clothed in Sami’s kitchen, looking into one another’s eyes like they were daring the other to blink first. 

Sami was, in the end, too polite for such a silence.

“Adrian—,” Sami says, and he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say next, exactly. Knew only that he wanted to say Adrian’s name, feel it roll off his tongue, while he had him here, even if it was only for a very short time, a painfully short time, Adrian pressed against him, Adrian looking in his eyes, Adrian’s mouth on his mouth, skin on his skin. 

“You’re, ehm,” Adrian says, the blushing starting back up again, “you’re…I dunno, you’re cleared?”

“Cleared?” Sami says, genuinely confused.

Adrian groans and covers his face with his hands for a moment. “You’re clearly not going to eat all of this food I went through the trouble of getting you, Sami Zayn, so…”

Sami starts to grin again, saying “Ohhhh, _cleared_ , you wanna know if we can have a match this afternoon, huh?”

Adrian moans from behind his hands, rutting up against Sami’s leg, groaning “oh shut _up_ Sami Zayn, you incorrigible little brat,” and Sami uses mostly his good hand with a little help from the left one to pull Adrian’s hands away from his face, tipping Adrian’s chin up and holding it there.

“I mean, I didn’t specifically ask the doctor, hey, if Adrian comes over after I don’t know how long and practically begs for it,” Sami says, huskily, “can I take him in the bedroom and make him forget his own name? But…”

“You know exactly how long,” Adrian says, running his hands down Sami’s back and finding the nervy spots down near the base of his spine, Sami shivering immediately and Adrian repeating the stroking circles till Sami squirms away.

“I dunno who’s gonna be worse,” Adrian adds, “you or me.”

Sami wriggles the fingers holding up Adrian’s chin against his neck and Adrian lets out a very giggly squeak.

“You,” Sami says, backing off and starting to walk to the bedroom. “Definitely, eight hundred percent you.”

* * * * 

It’s a bit of work to get their clothes off—Sami really is mostly working one-handed, even with just the brace and no sling, and Adrian is absolutely terrified of setting Sami’s recovery back any more, so things are slightly delicate. The delicacy combined with hyper-sensitivity, however…

“Don’t be so _gentle_!” Sami squeals at one point as Adrian is ever-so-slowly trying to slide the sleeve of Sami’s button down off Sami’s good arm, Adrian’s fingers brushing the underside of Sami’s bicep and making Sami giggle uncontrollably.

“Forgive me for not wanting to re-tear your shoulder!” Adrian snarks back, smiling much too big, and Sami yelps “that’s not even the BAD one!” as Adrian finally manages to get Sami shirtless and stands staring at him.

“Forgot how nice you looked like this,” Adrian says, soft and more than a little regretful, looking at Sami carefully propped on the bed in his underwear as Adrian yanks off his own t-shirt and slides down his shorts, “all on display for me. Almost…I dunno, almost liked it better before we got naked. Little mystery or something, I guess, I don’t—“

“You’re babbling,” Sami says, smiling, “you’re nervous. Always do that.”

“I do not!”

“You do, though. Remember that first match at PWG?”

“I don’t particularly like to.”

“Remember the second one, then?” Sami says, and Adrian laughs.

“Course I do,” Adrian says, “Wanted to buy you a drink after that so badly, ended up at IHOP instead, because of course I’d fall for the one luchador that won’t drink.”

“I’m hard work,” Sami says, proudly, wriggling a bit on the bed. “But mostly I remember you couldn’t stop talking. Think I mostly kissed you to shut you up, honestly.”

Adrian squeals in mock-outrage at that, diving onto the bed carefully, kissing at Sami’s bare stomach and the bit of hip sticking out over Sami’s boxers, and Sami giggles and sighs and shrieks when Adrian kisses near his ribs.

“Eight hundred percent gonna be me?” Adrian says, looking up at Sami, smirking, kissing near Sami’s ribs again to hear that shriek one more time.

“Eight hundred!” Sami declares, “if you’d get up here I’d prove it! You’re taking advantage of my poor injured state—“ and Sami puts on a tremendously tragic pout after this, sniffling theatrically, and Adrian rolls his eyes but he can’t resist (never could resist, will never try to resist) Sami, and so he slides himself up so he’s leaned against Sami’s right side, saying, “all right then, do your worst.”

“You don’t want my worst,” Sami says, smugly, “you’ve never been able to handle it.”

“That’s a lie!” Adrian squawks, “you’re getting awfully cocky, aren’t you—“ but this is cut off quickly when Sami starts kissing quick and light down Adrian’s neck and collarbone as he’s tickling at Adrian’s ribs, Adrian giggling and shriek-moaning and arching for more, hands fisting in the sheets, groping at Sami’s leg or anywhere else he can touch, panting when Sami stops.

“You know that’s not even close to my worst, right?” Sami whispers into Adrian’s neck. But Adrian doesn’t reply, doesn’t try to, just wriggles up and kisses Sami, a long, deep, claiming kiss, cradling Sami’s head in his hands, treasuring the tiny whimpers that slip out as Adrian kisses harder, nipping a little at Sami’s lower lip. 

The thought occurs to Adrian in that moment that he’s been trying to draw those tiny whimpers out of Sami for the better part of eight years, those sweet helpless noises he’d heard the first time one night in Reseda, and it’s been Sami since then, always Sami, sweet and steady wonderful Sami, and suddenly Adrian is trying not to cry, pulling off Sami’s lips and hiding his face in Sami’s neck for a second.

“Right here,” Sami says, without Adrian having to say a word, “I’m right here, not going anywhere, right here, we’re okay. Gonna be just fine.”

“Eight hundred percent fine?” Adrian murmurs, sniffling, hiding his near-tears by kissing a trail up to Sami’s ear again with his eyes closed, finding all the sweetest spots that make Sami giggle and gasp, not even having to look, Adrian grinning, “Finn knows about the ears, right?”

“Like I could hide it,” Sami growls back, his good hand starting to trace down Adrian’s back, harder than a tickle, and the gasping low moan Adrian rumbles into Sami’s ear sends goosebumps careening down Sami’s whole body.

“Just—ah, _fuck_ —saying I could show him a thing or two,” Adrian hisses, sucking Sami’s earlobe into his mouth and nipping, Sami scratching and wetly kissing anywhere he can reach, Adrian climbing on top of Sami and rubbing against him, a tangle of limbs and bites and kisses and growls.

“And I could—oh, _god_ , Adrian—tell Wade all about your—holy _shit_ do that again—little tickle kink, he knows about that, doesn’t he?” Sami says, shuddering under Adrian’s touch, and Adrian blushes and mutters for Sami to kindly shut the fuck up, Sami grinning “I’ll take that as a no, then, looks like I owe him a phone call…”

But Sami loses all semblance of even playful arrogance when Adrian abruptly and unceremoniously yanks Sami’s boxers down, Sami gasping “Adrian, I can’t—“ and Adrian growling right back “good thing you’ve got me to do the work then, right?” as Adrian lowers his mouth over Sami’s cock.

It doesn’t last as long as either of them might like—so much buildup, so much longing—but Adrian knows how to draw it out, knows how to make Sami’s eyes roll back and hear Sami gasping in Arabic, calling Adrian “habibi” as he’s clutching Adrian’s head with his right hand, stroking Adrian’s hair frantically, crying please in every language he’s ever known, and Adrian knows when Sami is drawn taut like a bow and then, only then, does he speed up, to feel Sami snap under him, surrendering over to Adrian, coming loud and hard and thrashing.

Adrian doesn’t pull his mouth off of Sami till Sami practically taps out, a little whine of “enough ENOUGH!” as Adrian leans back, wiping his mouth off with his hand, smiling up at Sami almost shyly.

“Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Adrian asks, trying to make it sound playful but not quite pulling it off.

Sami gives Adrian a smile and a thumbs-up, giggling “Can’t…words.”

“Still got it, huh?” Adrian says, smirking, “thought I was gonna be the one forgetting my name?”

“Just…you wait,” Sami says, trying to catch his breath.

Adrian slides back up the bed to Sami’s side, lying against him, Sami squealing as soon as Adrian leans his head under Sami’s arm—“sorry sorry SORRY your hair tickles!”—and Adrian laughing a little before moving up so he’s on Sami’s shoulder instead, Sami resting his hand on Adrian’s side.

“There are,” Sami murmurs, eyes closed, “roughly five thousand things I’d like to do to you but many of them require two hands. And range of motion.”

“Someone’s got his words back, then,” Adrian says, trying not to squirm as Sami starts to stroke his side.

“The night I get my comeback match,” Sami replies, “you’d better be there because, you remember that one shower?”

“With the bench?”

“Yeah, with the bench. Wanna fuck you on it like last time I won the title, barely able to fucking stand but couldn’t resist you,” Sami says, and now Adrian can’t stop the squirmy shiver.

“Sami…”

“Or,” Sami muses, idly doodling little circles down Adrian’s ribs to his hip, making Adrian giggle and shudder, “maybe, I’ll make you wait, maybe tie you up when we get back home, get out some of those toys you like so much, use them on every fucking inch of you, _then_ I fuck your brains out,” and Adrian swears he’s never been this sensitive in his life, every word Sami’s saying, every brush of Sami’s fingers, sending rainbow lightning sparks through his nerves.

“Oh, _god_ , Sami, you know…”

“That you love it when I talk like this? Course I do,” Sami says, concentrating his doodling on that wickedly ticklish spot where Adrian’s hip meets his thigh, Adrian giggling as much as moaning, all the sensations mixing together in his brain in the most perfect utterly Sami way. 

“Or maybe,” Sami continues, “I’ll just shove you down on your knees for me, you like when I do that, don’t you? Yank your hair and fuck your mouth, finish wherever I want, maybe then I’ll let you come, if you’re good, but you’re always good for me, Adrian…” and with that, Sami is teasing his fingers along Adrian’s cock through his underwear and Adrian is whining with need.

“Sami Sami Sami,” Adrian whimpers, grinding into Sami’s hand, “oh please please let me, make me—“

“You wanna fuck me, Adrian?” Sami asks, and the way Adrian arches in response is almost enough to get Sami going again, the pure naked desperation of it. 

“Sami…yes…but…”

“It’s OK,” Sami says, stilling his hand on Adrian’s cock (to Adrian’s very evident displeasure), “it’s OK, you can, I just—you have to go slow, can you go slow?”

Adrian laughs, a wild-sounding thing, “Fuck, I don’t know, I can…I can try, but Sami, need you so much, so fucking much, I don’t—know…”

“Sure you can,” Sami purrs, “you’re good for me, always, always good,” and Adrian is scrambling off the bed to the drawer to grab out the lube, some things never change, doesn’t even have to ask where it is and there’s a little flurry of Adrian trying to open the bottle and pull off his underwear at the same time—a losing venture that almost leads to Adrian flat on his face—but somehow after a lot of giggling he coordinates it and stands naked at the foot of the bed, staring at Sami wide-eyed as Adrian slicks up his fingers.

“Tell…tell me when you want more,” Adrian says, shaky and almost reverent as he traces one finger up Sami’s ass, Sami spreading his legs wider and whining for Adrian not to tease so much, and Adrian slowly eases one finger into Sami.

It takes a couple of moments, Sami breathing slow and deep and trying as best he can to keep still, but he soon whispers “yes, please, more—“ and Adrian nods, adding a second finger alongside the second, curling them a bit so Sami gasps and has to actively fight not to thrash, saying, “forgot…kinda forgot how good it feels when it’s you, gonna…gonna be hard not to move…”

“I cannot,” Adrian manages, grinning, “tell an ambulance driver that I was trying to get your ass ready and made you re-tear your rotator cuff, so I’m gonna need you to keep it together, Sami Zayn,” and that sets Sami off, giggling helplessly even as he’s craving so much more, Adrian laughing too, the moment sweet and open and just—right, feeling ridiculous and sexy and this is them, Adrian thinks, and that though makes him smile even wider, even choke back a little sob and really Adrian isn’t sure when he became such an utter sap for Sami but he’s got the feeling that ship sailed years ago.

“Fuck me,” Sami says, breathlessly, giggly, “ready, I mean, if I’m gonna re-aggravate it, at least let it be while you fucked me, that’s easier to explain, right?”

“Yes, Sami,” Adrian says, dryly, though it’s the invitation he’s been waiting for, “that’s why I should fuck you, to make things easier to explain…”

Adrian withdraws his fingers and leans forward for more of those shaky giggly kisses, Sami handing Adrian a pillow to slip under Sami’s back, help angle him up a bit easier without too much pressure on Sami’s shoulders. Once Adrian has Sami settled, looking even more deliciously on display, Adrian squeezes out a little more lube and slicks up his cock, moaning loudly as he does it—half for show but half just because the sensation and anticipation are destroying him, slowly lining himself up and even more slowly, achingly slowly, starting to push himself into Sami, Sami’s legs up and Sami’s jaw dropping open helplessly as his eyes shut.

In near-perfect harmony Adrian groans “oh, _fuck_ , you feel good” as Sami half-wails “Adrian you feel so fucking _good_ holy _shit_ ,” and Adrian finds his rhythm easily, hands resting on Sami’s thighs and trying to go slow, trying as best he can to go slow, but Sami’s wailing under him and wrapping his legs around. Adrian can barely stand the sight, Sami flushed and shaking and he’s beautiful, he’s fucking gorgeous, and Adrian isn’t fully sure what’s actually coming out of his mouth and what he’s just thinking but the way Sami’s face is lighting up means that whichever it is, he’s doing something right.

“So good,” Adrian pants, “my Sami, so good, gorgeous like this, everything like this, oh, fuck, fuck, Sami, Sami—” and Sami is panting right back, right hand tangled in his hair the way he always does when he’s getting lost in it, Adrian begging Sami to open his eyes, please open his eyes, and Sami does and looks right at Adrian with his eyes wide and needy, but a huge, blissed-out smile spreading across his face.

“Yours,” Sami says, so calm and sure that Adrian gasps out a “love you” before he can stop himself, but Sami just grins wider and says “love you too, harder, please, _please_.”

Adrian doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s been trying to go slow and trying to be gentle but he can’t, he just can’t anymore, Sami feels so good and it’s been so long and the rest is flashes. Adrian’s hands digging into Sami’s hips hard enough to leave marks, Sami biting his lip so hard he almost bleeds, crying out for Adrian, both of them beyond speech, just moans and gasps and grunts, Adrian managing a shaky “Sami I’m, oh, _god_!,” coming deep into Sami, trembling with the force of it, willing himself not to collapse.

For a few moments, the room is nearly soundless, just harsh ragged breathing as they both come down, Adrian softly rubbing at Sami’s legs before withdrawing from him reluctantly, Sami reaching to hand him some of the wipes he keeps on the bedside table, Adrian kissing Sami’s knuckles as he takes them and wipes himself off quickly, tossing the wipes in the trash before shakily walking around to the side of the bed and flopping onto it.

“How’s…the shoulder?” Adrian mumbles, managing to roll onto his side so he can look at Sami.

“ ‘S fine. You did good,” Sami says, reaching over to pet Adrian’s hair.

“Good,” Adrian says, blinking slow and drowsy, repeating “good” as he tilts up for a kiss, lazy and a little sloppy, deeply affectionate.

“So,” Sami says, a mischievous smirk quirking up his mouth, “you, uh, remember your name?”

Adrian pauses for a moment, chewing his lip, before managing to say, barely keeping a straight face, “I dunno, does Ripley Bishop sound familiar to you?”

There’s a brief pause before Sami starts laughing so hard he can barely breathe, little squeaky noises slipping out. Adrian’s trying to stay innocent-looking but Sami’s laughter is infectious, always has been, and it’s so good to hear it in this setting again, naked and flushed and utterly spent, collapsed together, that Adrian starts giggling himself, burying his face in Sami’s ribs.

“C’mon, Ripley,” Sami manages to say, between giggles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “let’s get a shower.”

“I didn’t…”

“I’ve still got a bottle of the conditioner,” Sami says. “You’ll have to comb it out yourself after, though.”

Adrian sits up and leans over to kiss Sami again, adding, “And then we’re eating. I flew all the way here and I might as well have driven—“

“To Syria for the baba ghanoush,” Sami says, sitting up carefully and starting toward the bathroom, Adrian close behind.


End file.
